


The Better Part of Me

by sharkie335



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Rimming, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What the fuck were you thinking?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Better Part of Me

It's not the first time that Dean has risked himself doing something stupid. It's not even the fifth, or the tenth. In fact, Sam has lost count of the number of times that Dean has done this, but one thing is for sure - it will be the _last_ time.

He slams Dean up against the wall as soon as they make it through the door to the hotel room. "What the fuck were you thinking, Dean?" he demands.

Dean just smirks at him, giving him that devil-may-care look that tells Sam that he's, once again, not getting through to him. Fisting his hands in Dean's shirt, he pulls him forward a little bit, only to slam him back again. "Dammit, I am _not_ going to lose you. Do you hear me?"

Without waiting for an answer, he slams his mouth down onto Dean's, kissing him hard. Dean's mouth opens under the onslaught, his tongue tentatively touching Sam's, and Sam almost, _almost_ , forgets that he's upset.

Forcing his hands to let go of Dean's shirt, he takes him by the shoulders and shoves him in the direction of the bed. "Strip," Sam growls.

Dean looks like he wants to argue, like he wants to stop this, but only for a moment. Then his hands drop to his waist, grabbing his t-shirt and yanking it over his head. He's muttering something as the shirt comes off, and Sam is going to ignore it, but he catches enough to know that he needs to hear it. "What was that?"

Hands on his hips, shirtless, Dean glares right back at him. "What does it matter, Sammy? I've only got five months left anyway."

Oh, that's _it_. Sam moves right up into Dean's space, spitting mad. "I _am_ going to get you out of this. And even if I don't, you're going to go down fighting, you hear me? You are _not_ going to just roll over and die, you got me?"

Looking down at the floor, Dean says, "Whatever," and Sam breaks. He grabs hold of Dean's belt, undoing the buckle, and then the fly beneath it. "Get these off and get on the bed. On your stomach."

Dean winces at that, and Sam doesn't care that Dean almost never bottoms. He's going to this time, dammit, and before he's done, Sammy going to have him begging to come. Dean starts to argue, and then apparently he sees that he's not going to get anywhere and drops his jeans, stepping out of his shoes at the same time. Still without a word, he turns and stretches out on the bed.

Sam studies him for a long minute. Sam is sinew over bone, but Dean is built more stockily, with heavier muscle. He's beautiful and he knows it, but privately Sam thinks he's most beautiful like this, when he's getting ready to give it up for his brother.

It only takes a minute to shed his own clothes, and then he goes to the bag in the bathroom to fetch the lube. When he comes back and sets it next to Dean's hip with deliberation, Dean winces again, and he nearly laughs. He manages to hold it in, but it's a near thing.

He crawls onto the bed, and Dean spreads his legs a little. Sam notices this indication that Dean isn't as unwilling as other body language would indicate, but he's not ready for it. Not yet, anyway. Instead he kneels next to Dean's legs and runs one hand over Dean's ass, over the smooth skin that covers hard muscle.

The first slap resounds through the room with a loud _crack_ , and Dean's head pops up like a gopher's. "Dude, what the fuck?" he says.

"Do I have your attention now?"

"You always have my attention, Sammy. You don't have to beat my ass to get it," Dean says, like _now_ he's decided to placate Sam.

Sam's hand falls again. "Yet, I don't think that you believe me, here. I've tried everything else to get through your head about this stupid death wish, so maybe a spanking will work?"

"Ow! Get the fuck off of me, you asshole. I'm not some little kid!" Interestingly, though, when Sam's hand falls a third time, Dean bucks up into it, instead of squirming to get away. Sam decides that he's just going to ignore Dean's words in favor of what Dean's body is saying.

And what it's saying is intriguing, to say the least. Tuning out Dean's continued threats, he starts to spank him in earnest, hand falling over and over again, turning Dean's ass pink, then red. Dean's hips continue to move, pushing up into his hand as it comes down.

Sam is vaguely aware that Dean has fallen silent, other than harshly panted breaths. He takes a moment to shake his hand out, and then slides it under Dean, only to find him hard as a rock and leaking. _Very_ interesting.

"Spread your legs." Sam's voice is barely above a whisper, but Dean obeys instantly, legs spread wide. The first slap to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh makes him howl like a banshee, but he doesn't close his legs. Instead, he spreads them as wide as he can with Sam kneeling in the way.

He's determined to turn the skin there as red as the skin on Dean's ass, and he starts to spank it in earnest, earning him whimpers and moans from Dean, who seems to have given up on hiding how much he's liking this.

When the area is bright red and hot to the touch, Sam finally stops. Dean lifts his head again to glare at him, "What the hell was that, Sammy?"

"That was me making a point, Dean. Now, get up on your knees, face on the bed." Dean glares at him for a moment, then he obeys. Sam studies him for a moment, and then shifts so that he's kneeling between Dean's spread ankles. Taking one hot cheek in either hand, he leans forward and buries his face in Dean's ass with no warning.

This time, Dean's harsh cry is all pleasure, and Sam starts to lick and suck eagerly. His hand reaches around to gently cup and squeeze Dean's balls as he works his tongue into Dean's tight hole, fucking him with the slick muscle.

Dean is shivering and shuddering, crying out his pleasure inarticulately. When Sam slides his tongue as deep as it will go and then bites a little at the rim of Dean's hole, Dean shouts. "Oh, god, Sam!"

Mouth tired, Sam kneels back up. "Don't stop, you bitch," Dean spits, and Sam laughs. "You're not going to come until I'm buried inside you," he says, and Dean _growls_.

"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?" he says, ass wiggling. Sam laughs again and picks up the lube, slicking two fingers and sliding them in to the hilt, and unerringly to his prostate. Dean groans, deep and needy, and Sam can't help but notice how hot Dean is like this - bright red ass, spitted on Sam's fingers.

He finger fucks Dean long enough to loosen the muscle a little, till his fingers are sliding in and out smoothly. Then he pulls his fingers free and grabs the condom from the bed. Rolling it on gives Sam a moment to catch his breath, and then he slicks his dick up. Letting the head of his cock come to rest at Dean's entrance, he waits.

"Goddamn it, Sam. Would you fuck me already?" Dean starts to push back onto his cock, and Sam groans as the head pops through the tight ring of muscle. His hands clench on Dean's hot hips, holding him still as he slides slowly in, only stopping when he's buried to the hilt. He gives Dean a second to adjust, then starts to move, slow and sure as he pounds into Dean's willing hole.

He can't hold back the sounds of pleasure of being so deep inside Dean, but Dean is busy enough with his own sounds that he doesn't even notice. Sam starts to change angles, looking for the perfect one. He knows he's nailed it when Dean shouts, one of his hands snaking down to wrap around his own cock. "That's it, Dean. Touch yourself. Come on my cock."

Dean moans softly, his whole upper body shaking as he works his cock. It doesn't take long before he makes soft "Oh," sounds, his hole clenching tight around Sam's cock, almost pulling Sam's orgasm out of him. Sam lets go, slamming in one last time and freezing as he comes, emptying himself inside Dean.

He has just enough presence of mind to pull out and roll to one side as he strips the rubber off. He throws it towards the trashcan, and then rolls back towards Dean, wrapping himself around Dean and holding tightly.

Dean's voice is raspy when he says, "Point made, Sammy."


End file.
